Alexander Pope

POPE. Since my old friend is grown so great, As to be Minister of State,

IN THE YEAR 1715. 1 Dear, damn'd, distracting town, farewell! Thy fools no more I'll tease:

O Wretched B----,[90] jealous now of all, What god, what mortal shall prevent thy fall? Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked men in place,

What are the falling rills, the pendant shades, The morning bowers, the evening colonnades, But soft recesses for th' uneasy mind

As when that hero, who, in each campaign, Had braved the Goth, and many a Vandal slain, Lay fortune-struck, a spectacle of woe!

I That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them. 'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill

THE DESIGN. Having proposed to write some pieces on human life and manners, such as (to use my Lord Bacon's expression) come home to men's business and bosoms, I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering man in the abstract, his nature and his state; since, to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being. The science of human nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world. It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind as in that of the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our observation. The disputes are all upon these last, and, I will venture to say, they have less sharpened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have diminished the practice, more than advanced the theory, of morality. If I could flatter myself that this essay has any merit, it is in steering betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a temperate yet not inconsistent, and a short yet not imperfect system of ethics.

ARGUMENT. OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO HIMSELF AS AN INDIVIDUAL. I. The business of Man not to pry into God, but to study himself. His middle nature; his powers and frailties, ver. 1 to 19. The limits of his capacity, ver. 19, &c. II. The two principles of Man, self-love and reason, both necessary, ver. 53, &c. Self-love the stronger, and why, ver. 67, &c. Their end the same, ver. 81, &c. III. The passions, and their use, ver. 93-130. The predominant passion, and its force, ver. 132-160. Its necessity, in directing men to different purposes, ver. 165, &c. Its providential use, in fixing our principle, and ascertaining our virtue, ver. 177. IV. Virtue and vice joined in our mixed nature; the limits near, yet the things separate and evident: What is the office of reason, ver. 202-216. V. How odious vice in itself, and how we deceive ourselves into it, ver. 217. VI. That, however, the ends of Providence and general good are answered in our passions and imperfections, ver. 238, &c. How usefully these are distributed to all orders of men, ver. 241. How useful they are to society, ver. 251. And to the individuals, ver. 263. In every state, and every age of life, ver. 273, &c.

ARGUMENT. OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO SOCIETY. I. The whole universe one system of society, ver. 7, &c. Nothing made wholly for itself, nor yet wholly for another, ver. 27. The happiness of animals mutual, ver. 49. II. Reason or instinct operate alike to the good of each individual, ver. 79. Reason or instinct operate also to society, in all animals, ver. 109. III. How far society carried by instinct, ver. 115. How much farther by reason, ver. 128. IV. Of that which is called the state of nature, 144. Reason instructed by instinct in the invention of arts, ver. 166, and in the forms of society, ver. 176. V. Origin of political societies, ver. 196. Origin of monarchy, ver. 207. Patriarchal government, ver. 212. VI. Origin of true religion and government, from the same principle--of love, ver. 231, &c. Origin of superstition and tyranny, from the same principle--of fear, ver. 237, &c. The influence of self-love operating to the social and public good, ver. 266. Restoration of true religion and government on their first principle, ver. 285. Mixed government, ver. 288. Various forms of each, and the true end of all, ver. 300, &c.

ARGUMENT. OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO HAPPINESS. I. False notions of happiness, philosophical and popular, answered from ver. 19 to ver. 27. II. It is the end of all men, and attainable by all, ver. 29. God intends happiness to be equal; and to be so, it must be social, since all particular happiness depends on general, and since he governs by general, not particular laws, ver. 35. As it is necessary for order, and the peace and welfare of society, that external goods should be unequal, happiness is not made to consist in these, ver. 51. But, notwithstanding that inequality, the balance of happiness among mankind is kept even by Providence, by the two passions of hope and fear, ver. 70. III. What the happiness of individuals is, as far as is consistent with the constitution of this world; and that the good man has here the advantage, ver. 77. The error of imputing to virtue what are only the calamities of nature, or of fortune, ver. 94. IV. The folly of expecting that God should alter his general laws in favour of particulars, ver. 121. V. That we are not judges who are good; but that, whoever they are, they must be happiest, ver. 131, &c. VI. That external goods are not the proper rewards, but often inconsistent with, or destructive of virtue, ver. 167. That even these can make no man happy without virtue: instanced in riches ver. 185; honours, ver. 193; nobility, ver. 205; greatness, ver. 217; fame, ver. 237; superior talents, ver. 259, &c. With pictures of human infelicity in men possessed of them all, ver. 269, &c. VII. That virtue only constitutes a happiness, whose object is universal, and whose prospect eternal, ver. 309, &c. That the perfection of virtue and happiness consists in a conformity to the order of Providence here, and a resignation to it here and hereafter, ver. 326, &c.

What is prudery? 'Tis a bledam, Seen with wit and beauty seldom.

When wise Ulysses, from his native coast Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd, Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone,

When wise Ulysses, from his native coast Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd, Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone,

Beneath the shade a spreading Beech displays, Hylas and Aegon sung their rural lays, This mourn'd a faithless, that an absent Love,

IMITATED IN THE MANNER OF DR SWIFT. 'Tis true, my lord, I gave my word, I would be with you, June the third;

I've often wish'd that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a-year, A handsome house to lodge a friend,

Again? new tumults in my breast? Ah, spare me, Venus! let me, let me rest! I am not now, alas! the man

Celia, we know, is sixty-five, Yet Celia's face is seventeen; Thus winter in her breast must live,

Strophe I Ye shades, where sacred truth is sought; Groves, where immortal Sages taught;

Semichorus. Oh Tyrant Love! hast thou possest The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast?

I But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.

What beck'ning ghost, along the moon-light shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade? 'Tis she!'but why that bleeding bosom gor'd,

In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns;

I am his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you

Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool: But you yourself may serve to show it,

Friend, for your epitaphs I'm grieved, Where still so much is said; One half will never be believed,

Strange! all this difference should be 'Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee!

Whence deathless 'Kit-cat' took its name, Few critics can unriddle: Some say from 'pastrycook' it came,

I am His Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

A Bishop, by his neighbours hated, Has cause to wish himself translated: But why should Hough desire translation,

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come; Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

DESIGNED FOR MRS OLDFIELD. Prodigious this! the frail one of our play From her own sex should mercy find to-day!

(WRITTEN IN MDCCXXXVIII.) DIALOGUE I. Fr. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print,

Fr. 'Tis all a libel--Paxton[203] (sir) will say. P. Not yet, my friend! to-morrow, faith, it may; And for that very cause I print to-day.

Nothing so true as what you once let fall, "Most Women have no Characters at all." Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,

ADVERTISEMENT. This paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begun many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occasions offered. I had no thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased some persons of rank and fortune (the authors of 'Verses to the Imitator of Horace,' and of an 'Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a Nobleman at Hampton Court') to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my writings (of which, being public, the public is judge) but my person, morals, and family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requisite. Being divided between the necessity to say something of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so awkward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the last hand to this epistle. If it have anything pleasing, it will be that by which I am most desirous to please, the truth and the sentiment; and if anything offensive, it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend, the vicious or the ungenerous. Many will know their own pictures in it, there being not a circumstance but what is true; but I have, for the most part, spared their names, and they may escape being laughed at, if they please.

A soul as full of worth, as void of pride, Which nothing seeks to show, or needs to hide, Which nor to guilt nor fear its caution owes,

In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces shine, And all the writer lives in every line; His easy art may happy nature seem,

This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This from no venal or ungrateful Muse. Whether thy hand strike out some free design,

As some fond virgin, whom her mother's care Drags from the town to wholesome country air, Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,

Such were the notes thy once-loved Poet sung, Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld and lost! admired and mourn'd!

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures: Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe jocoso,

Neque sermonibus vulgi dederis te, nec in prmiis spem posueris rerum tuarum; suiste oportet illecebris ipsa virtus trahat ad verum decus. Quid de te alii loquantur, ipsi videant,sed loquentur tamen. (Cicero, De Re Publica VI.23)["... you will not any longer attend to the vulgar mob's gossip nor put your trust in human rewards for your deeds; virtue, through her own charms, should lead you to true glory. Let what others say about you be their concern; whatever it is, they will say it anyway." Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said,

'His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani Munere!' VIRG. Dorset, the grace of courts, the Muses' pride,

A pleasing form; a firm, yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd: Honour unchanged, a principle profess'd,

To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear: Who ne'er knew joy, but friendship might divide,

Jacobus Craggs Regi Magnae Britannia A Secretis Et Consiliis Sanctioribus, Principis Pariter Ac Populi Amor Et Deliciae: Vixit Titulis Et Invidia Major Annos, Heu Paucos, Xxxv. Ob. Feb. Xvi. Mdccxx. Statesman, yet friend to Truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear!

Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, Thy country's friend, but more of human kind. Oh, born to arms! oh, worth in youth approved!

Well, then, poor G---- lies under ground! So there's an end of honest Jack. So little justice here he found,

Here lies Lord Coningsby--be civil! The rest God knows--perhaps the Devil.

Thy relics, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, And sacred place by Dryden's awful dust: Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,

Here rests a woman, good without pretence, Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense: No conquests she, but o'er herself, desired,

Erected By Their Father The Lord Digby, In The Church Of Sherborne, In Dorsetshire, 1727. Go! fair example of untainted youth, Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth:

Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master, taught, Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures Thought; Now for two ages having snatch'd from Fate

This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, Here lies an honest man: A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate,

Of manners gentle, of affections mild; In wit, a man; simplicity, a child: With native humour tempering virtuous rage,

ISAACUS NEWTONUS: QUEM IMMORTALEM TESTANTUR TEMPUS, NATURA, COELUM:

SHE. Yes, we have lived--one pang, and then we part! May Heaven, dear father! now have all thy heart.

If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd, And every opening virtue blooming round, Could save a parent's justest pride from fate,

Heroes and kings! your distance keep: In peace let one poor poet sleep, Who never flatter'd folks like you:

Under this marble, or under this sill, Or under this turf, or e'en what they will; Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead,

When Eastern lovers feed the funeral fire, On the same pile the faithful pair expire. Here pitying Heaven that virtue mutual found,

The First Epistle Awake, my St. John!(1) leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of Kings.

The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, That happy air of majesty and truth, So would I draw: but, oh! 'tis vain to try,

Dear, damn'd distracting town, farewell! Thy fools no more I'll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,

Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate, All but the page prescrib'd, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:

1 Though Artemisia talks, by fits, Of councils, classics, fathers, wits; Reads Malebranche, Boyle, and Locke:

1 Silence! coeval with eternity; Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be, 'Twas one vast Nothing all, and all slept fast in thee.

Fair charmer, cease! nor make your voice's prize, A heart resign'd, the conquest of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail,

Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere (Horace, Epistles II.i.267) While you, great patron of mankind, sustain

Occasioned By Four Satirical Verses On Women Wits, In 'The Rape Of The Lock.' In vain you boast poetic names of yore, And cite those Sapphos we admire no more:

In vain you boast Poetic Names of yore, And cite those Sapho's we admire no more: Fate doom'd the Fall of ev'ry Female Wit,

Women ben full of Ragerie, Yet swinken not sans secresie. Thilke Moral shall ye understand,

Fain would my Muse the flow'ry Treasures sing, And humble glories of the youthful Spring; Where opening Roses breathing sweets diffuse,

Parson, these things in thy possessing Are better than the Bishop's blessing. A Wife that makes conserves; a Steed

Tho' Artemisia talks, by fits, Of councils, classics, fathers, wits; Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke;

I. Silence! coeval with Eternity; Thou wert, ere Nature's-self began to be,

I. In ev'ry Town, where Thamis rolls his Tyde, A narrow pass there is, with Houses low;

Here, shunning idleness at once and praise, This radiant pile nine rural sisters raise; The glittering emblem of each spotless dame,

There lived in Lombardy, as authors write, In days of old, a wise and worthy knight; Of gentle manners, as of generous race,

Here shunning idleness at once and praise, This radiant pile nine rural sisters[130] raise; The glittering emblem of each spotless dame,

So when Curll's Stomach the strong Drench o'ercame, (Infus'd in Vengenance of insulted Fame) Th' Avenger sees, with a delighted Eye,

1 Yes, I beheld the Athenian queen Descend in all her sober charms; 'And take,' she said, and smiled serene,

1 Generous, gay, and gallant nation, Bold in arms, and bright in arts; Land secure from all invasion,

All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade! Scene of my youthful loves and happier hours! Where the kind Muses met me as I stray'd,

All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade, Scene of my youthful loves, and happier hours! Where the kind Muses met me as I stray'd,

When simple Macer, now of high renown, First fought a Poet's Fortune in the Town, 'Twas all th' Ambition his high soul could feel,

When simple Macer, now of high renown, First sought a poet's fortune in the town, 'Twas all the ambition his high soul could feel,

The captain, some time after his return, being retired to Mr Sympson's in the country, Mrs Gulliver, apprehending from his late behaviour some estrangement of his affections, writes him the following expostulatory, soothing, and tenderly complaining epistle:-- Welcome, thrice welcome, to thy native place!-- What, touch me not? what, shun a wife's embrace?

ADVERTISEMENT. In reading several passages of the Prophet Isaiah, which foretell the coming of Christ and the felicities attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity between many of the thoughts, and those in the 'Pollio' of Virgil. This will not seem surprising, when we reflect, that the eclogue was taken from a Sibylline prophecy on the same subject. One may judge that Virgil did not copy it line by line, but selected such ideas as best agreed with the nature of pastoral poetry, and disposed them in that manner which served most to beautify his piece. I have endeavoured the same in this imitation of him, though without admitting anything of my own; since it was written with this particular view, that the reader, by comparing the several thoughts, might see how far the images and descriptions of the prophet are superior to those of the poet. But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall subjoin the passages of Isaiah and those of Virgil, under the same disadvantage of a literal translation. Ye Nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:

ARGUMENT. OF THE KNOWLEDGE AND CHARACTERS OF MEN. That it is not sufficient for this knowledge to consider man in the abstract: books will not serve the purpose, nor yet our own experience singly, ver. 1. General maxims, unless they be formed upon both, will be but notional, ver. 10. Some peculiarity in every man, characteristic to himself, yet varying from himself, ver. 15. Difficulties arising from our own passions, fancies, faculties, &c., ver. 31. The shortness of life, to observe in, and the uncertainty of the principles of action in men, to observe by, ver. 37, &c. Our own principle of action often hid from ourselves, ver. 41. Some few characters plain, but in general confounded, dissembled, or inconsistent, ver. 51. The same man utterly different in different places and seasons, ver. 71. Unimaginable weaknesses in the greatest, ver. 70, &c. Nothing constant and certain but God and nature, ver. 95. No judging of the motives from the actions; the same actions proceeding from contrary motives, and the same motives influencing contrary actions, ver. 100. II. Yet to form characters, we can only take the strongest actions of a man's life, and try to make them agree: the utter uncertainty of this, from nature itself, and from policy, ver. 120. Characters given according to the rank of men of the world, ver. 135. And some reason for it, ver. 140. Education alters the nature, or at least character of many, ver. 149. Actions, passions, opinions, manners, humours, or principles, all subject to change. No judging by nature, from ver. 158 to 174. III. It only remains to find (if we can) his ruling passion: that will certainly influence all the rest, and can reconcile the seeming or real inconsistency of all his actions, ver. 175. Instanced in the extraordinary character of Clodio, ver. 179. A caution against mistaking second qualities for first, which will destroy all possibility of the knowledge of mankind, ver. 210.

Nothing so true as what you once let fall-- 'Most women have no characters at all.' Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,

ARGUMENT. OF THE USE OF RICHES. That it is known to few, most falling into one of the extremes, avarice or profusion, ver. 1., &c. The point discussed, whether the invention of money has been more commodious, or pernicious to mankind, ver. 21 to 77. That riches, either to the avaricious or the prodigal, cannot afford happiness, scarcely necessaries, ver. 89 to 160. That avarice is an absolute frenzy, without an end or purpose, ver. 113 to 152. Conjectures about the motives of avaricious men, ver. 121 to 153. That the conduct of men, with respect to riches, can only be accounted for by the order of Providence, which works the general good out of extremes, and brings all to its great end by perpetual revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a miser acts upon principles which appear to him reasonable, ver. 179. How a prodigal does the same, ver. l99. The due medium, and true use of riches, ver. 219. The Man of Ross, ver. 250. The fate of the profuse and the covetous, in two examples; both miserable in life and in death, ver. 300, &c. The story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end.

ARGUMENT. OF THE USE OF RICHES. The vanity of expense in people of wealth and quality. The abuse of the word 'taste,' ver. 13. That the first principle and foundation, in this as in every thing else, is good sense, ver. 40. The chief proof of it is to follow nature, even in works of mere luxury and elegance. Instanced in architecture and gardening, where all must be adapted to the genius and use of the place, and the beauties not forced into it, but resulting from it, ver. 50. How men are disappointed in their most expensive undertakings, for want of this true foundation, without which nothing can please long, if at all; and the best examples and rules will but be perverted into something burdensome or ridiculous, ver. 65 to 92. A description of the false taste of magnificence; the first grand error of which is to imagine that greatness consists in the size and dimension, instead of the proportion and harmony of the whole, ver. 97; and the second, either in joining together parts incoherent, or too minutely resembling, or in the repetition of the same too frequently, ver. 105, &c. A word or two of false taste in books, in music, in painting, even in preaching and prayer, and lastly in entertainments, ver. 133, &c. Yet Providence is justified in giving wealth to be squandered in this manner, since it is dispersed to the poor and laborious part of mankind, ver. 169 [recurring to what is laid down in the 'Essay on Man,' ep. ii. and in the epistle preceding this, ver. 159, &c.] What are the proper objects of magnificence, and a proper field for the expense of great men, ver. 177, &c. and finally, the great and public works which become a prince, ver. 191, to the end.

OCCASIONED BY HIS DIALOGUES ON MEDALS.[54] See the wild waste of all-devouring years! How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears,

Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends, And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends. Let Crowds and Critics now my verse assail,

Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends, And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends, Let crowds of critics now my verse assail,

Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air,

I Descend ye Nine! descend and sing; The breathing instruments inspire,

In amaze Lost I gaze! Can our eyes

I know a thing that's most uncommon; (Envy, be silent and attend!) I know a reasonable woman,

1 I know the thing that's most uncommon; (Envy be silent, and attend!) I know a reasonable woman,

Come gentle Air! th' AEolian shepherd said, While Procris panted in the secret shade: Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries,

O gate, how cam'st thou here? Gate. I was brought from Chelsea last year, Batter'd with wind and weather.

Did Milton's prose, O Charles! thy death defend? A furious foe unconscious proves a friend. On Milton's verse did Bentley comment? Know,

When other fair ones to the shades go down, Still Chloe, Flavin, Delia, stay in town: Those ghosts of beauty wandering here reside,

What god, what genius did the pencil move, When Kneller painted these? 'Twas friendship, warm as Phoebus, kind as Love,

Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave Shines a broad Mirror thro' the shadowy Cave; Where ling'ring drops from min'ral Roofs distill,

Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave; Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distil,

Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child: With native Humour temp'ring virtuous Rage,

So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along: But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride,

Authors the world and their dull brains have traced To fix the ground where Paradise was placed; Mind not their learned whims and idle talk;

Pallas grew vapourish once, and odd, She would not do the least right thing, Either for goddess, or for god,

Pallas grew vapourish once, and odd; She would not do the least right thing, Either for goddess or for god,

1 Lest you should think that verse shall die, Which sounds the silver Thames along, Taught, on the wings of truth to fly

Phryne had talents for mankind, Open she was, and unconfin'd, Like some free port of trade:

Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase, To mountain wolves and all the savage race, Wide o'er th' aerial vault extend thy sway,

Thou art my God, sole object of my love; Not for the hope of endless joys above; Nor for the fear of endless pains below,

"Let such teach others, who themselves excel, And censure freely who have written well."

Authors are judged by strange capricious rules; The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: Yet sure the best are most severely fated;

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,

When Learning, after the long Gothic night, Fair, o'er the western world, renew'd its light, With arts arising, Sophonisba rose;

Grown old in rhyme, 'twere barbarous to discard Your persevering, unexhausted bard; Damnation follows death in other men,

Roxana, from the Court returning late, Sigh'd her soft sorrow at St James's gate: Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast,

Ye Lords and Commons, Men of Wit, And Pleasure about Town; Read this ere you translate one Bit

1 Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit And pleasure about town, Read this, ere you translate one bit

Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command, Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand? Must then her name the wretched writer prove,

Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command, Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand? Must then her name the wretched writer prove,

SATIRES AND EPISTLES OF HORACE IMITATED. - ADVERTISEMENT. The occasion of publishing these 'Imitations' was the clamour raised on some of my 'Epistles.' An answer from Horace was both more full, and of more dignity, than any I could have made in my own person; and the example of much greater freedom in so eminent a divine as Dr Donne, seemed a proof with what indignation and contempt a Christian may treat vice or folly, in ever so low or ever so high a station. Both these authors were acceptable to the princes and ministers under whom they lived. The satires of Dr Donne I versified, at the desire of the Earl of Oxford while he was Lord Treasurer, and of the Duke of Shrewsbury who had been Secretary of State; neither of whom looked upon a satire on vicious courts as any reflection on those they served in. And, indeed, there is not in the world a greater error than that which fools are so apt to fall into, and knaves with good reason to encourage, the mistaking a satirist for a libeller; whereas to a true satirist nothing is so odious as a libeller, for the same reason as to a man truly virtuous nothing is so hateful as a hypocrite.

What, and how great, the virtue and the art To live on little with a cheerful heart; (A doctrine sage, but truly none of mine)

"Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool. But you yourself may serve to show it,

Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air

I. How happy he, who free from care The rage of courts, and noise of towns;

I Flutt'ring spread thy purple Pinions, Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;

1 Fluttering, spread thy purple pinions, Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart, I a slave in thy dominions;

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,

First in these fields I try the sylvan strains, Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains: Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,

A Shepherd's Boy (he seeks no better name) Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame, Where dancing sun-beams n the waters play'd,

Sylvia my heart in wondrous wise alarm'd Awed without sense, and without beauty charm'd: But some odd graces and some flights she had,

Now Europe balanced, neither side prevails; For nothing's left in either of the scales.

Cardelia.    Smilinda. Cardelia. The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come;

CARDELIA. The basset-table spread, the tallier come; Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room?

TO THE TUNE OF 'TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW AT LAND.' 1 To one fair lady out of Court, And two fair ladies in,

I. To one fair lady out of Court, And two fair ladies in,

[From the 'Dunciad', Book IV] In vain, in vain--the all-composing Hour Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the Pow'r.

I.--PREFACE PREFIXED TO THE FIVE FIRST IMPERFECT EDITIONS OF THE DUNCIAD, IN THREE BOOKS, PRINTED AT DUBLIN AND LONDON, IN OCTAVO AND DUODECIMO, 1727.

The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings, I sing. Say you, her instruments the great!

But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd, On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd. Him close she curtains round with Vapours blue,

Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night! Of darkness visible so much be lent,

ARGUMENT. The poet being, in this book, to declare the completion of the prophecies mentioned at the end of the former, makes a new invocation; as the greater poets are wont, when some high and worthy matter is to be sung. He shows the goddess coming in her majesty to destroy order and science, and to substitute the kingdom of the Dull upon earth; how she leads captive the Sciences, and silenceth the Muses; and what they be who succeed in their stead. All her children, by a wonderful attraction, are drawn about her; and bear along with them divers others, who promote her empire by connivance, weak resistance, or discouragement of Arts; such as half-wits, tasteless admirers, vain pretenders, the flatterers of Dunces, or the patrons of them. All these crowd round her; one of them offering to approach her, is driven back by a rival, but she commends and encourages both. The first who speak in form are the geniuses of the schools, who assure her of their care to advance her cause, by confining youth to words, and keeping them out of the way of real knowledge. Their address, and her gracious answer; with her charge to them and the Universities. The Universities appear by their proper deputies, and assure her that the same method is observed in the progress of education. The speech of Aristarchus on this subject. They are driven off by a band of young gentlemen returned from travel with their tutors; one of whom delivers to the goddess, in a polite oration, an account of the whole conduct and fruits of their travels; presenting to her at the same time a young nobleman perfectly accomplished. She receives him graciously, and indues him with the happy quality of want of shame. She sees loitering about her a number of indolent persons abandoning all business and duty, and dying with laziness: to these approaches the antiquary Annius, entreating her to make them virtuosos, and assign them over to him; but Mummius, another antiquary, complaining of his fraudulent proceeding, she finds a method to reconcile their difference. Then enter a troop of people fantastically adorned, offering her strange and exotic presents: amongst them, one stands forth and demands justice on another, who had deprived him of one of the greatest curiosities in nature; but he justifies himself so well, that the goddess gives them both her approbation. She recommends to them to find proper employment for the indolents before-mentioned, in the study of butterflies, shells, birds' nests, moss, &c., but with particular caution not to proceed beyond trifles, to any useful or extensive views of nature, or of the Author of nature. Against the last of these apprehensions, she is secured by a hearty address from the minute philosophers and freethinkers, one of whom speaks in the name of the rest.

ARGUMENT. The king being proclaimed, the solemnity is graced with public games and sports of various kinds; not instituted by the hero, as by Aeneas in Virgil, but for greater honour by the goddess in person (in like manner as the games Pythia, Isthmia, &c., were anciently said to be ordained by the gods, and as Thetis herself appearing, according to Homer, Odyss. xxiv., proposed the prizes in honour of her son Achilles). Hither flock the poets and critics, attended, as is but just, with their patrons and booksellers. The goddess is first pleased, for her disport, to propose games to the booksellers, and setteth up the phantom of a poet, which they contend to overtake. The races described, with their divers accidents. Next, the game for a poetess. Then follow the exercises for the poets, of tickling, vociferating, diving: The first holds forth the arts and practices of dedicators; the second of disputants and fustian poets; the third of profound, dark, and dirty party-writers. Lastly, for the critics, the goddess proposes (with great propriety) an exercise, not of their parts, but their patience, in hearing the works of two voluminous authors, one in verse, and the other in prose, deliberately read, without sleeping: the various effects of which, with the several degrees and manners of their operation, are here set forth; till the whole number, not of critics only, but of spectators, actors, and all present, fall fast asleep; which naturally and necessarily ends the games. High on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shone

ARGUMENT. After the other persons are disposed in their proper places of rest, the goddess transports the king to her temple, and there lays him to slumber with his head on her lap; a position of marvellous virtue, which causes all the visions of wild enthusiasts, projectors, politicians, inamoratos, castle-builders, chemists, and poets. He is immediately carried on the wings of Fancy, and led by a mad poetical Sibyl, to the Elysian shade; where, on the banks of Lethe, the souls of the dull are dipped by Bavius, before their entrance into this world. There he is met by the ghost of Settle, and by him made acquainted with the wonders of the place, and with those which he himself is destined to perform. He takes him to a mount of vision, from whence he shows him the past triumphs of the empire of Dulness, then the present, and lastly the future: how small a part of the world was ever conquered by science, how soon those conquests were stopped, and those very nations again reduced to her dominion: then distinguishing the island of Great Britain, shows by what aids, by what persons, and by what degrees it shall be brought to her empire. Some of the persons he causes to pass in review before his eyes, describing each by his proper figure, character, and qualifications. On a sudden the scene shifts, and a vast number of miracles and prodigies appear, utterly surprising and unknown to the king himself, till they are explained to be the wonders of his own reign now commencing. On this subject Settle breaks into a congratulation, yet not unmixed with concern, that his own times were but the types of these. He prophesies how first the nation shall be overrun with farces, operas, and shows; how the throne of Dulness shall be advanced over the theatres, and set up even at Court; then how her sons shall preside in the seats of arts and sciences; giving a glimpse, or Pisgah-sight, of the future fulness of her glory, the accomplishment whereof is the subject of the fourth and last book. But in her temple's last recess enclosed,

The Dunciad. IN FOUR BOOKS. A LETTER TO THE PUBLISHER, OCCASIONED BY THE FIRST CORRECT EDITION OF THE DUNCIAD.

TO DR JONATHAN SWIFT. ARGUMENT. The proposition, the invocation, and the inscription. Then the original of the great empire of Dulness, and cause of the continuance thereof. The college of the goddess in the city, with her private academy for poets in particular; the governors of it, and the four cardinal virtues. Then the poem hastes into the midst of things, presenting her, on the evening of a Lord Mayor's day, revolving the long succession of her sons, and the glories past and to come. She fixes her eye on Bayes to be the instrument of that great event which is the subject of the poem. He is described pensive among his books, giving up the cause, and apprehending the period of her empire: after debating whether to betake himself to the Church, or to gaming, or to party-writing, he raises an altar of proper books, and (making first his solemn prayer and declaration) purposes thereon to sacrifice all his unsuccessful writings. As the pile is kindled, the goddess, beholding the flame from her seat, flies and puts it out by casting upon it the poem of Thul'. She forthwith reveals herself to him, transports him to her temple, unfolds her arts, and initiates him into her mysteries; then announcing the death of Eusden the poet laureate, anoints him, carries him to court, and proclaims him successor.

Vital spark of heav'nly flame, Quit, oh, quit, this mortal frame! Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,

She said, and for her lost Calanthis sighs, When the fair Consort of her son replies. "Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan,

She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs; When the fair consort of her son replies: 'Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan,

TRANSLATED IN THE YEAR 1703. ARGUMENT. Oedipus, King of Thebes, having, by mistake, slain his father Laius, and married his mother Jocasta, put out his own eyes, and resigned his realm to his sons Eteocles and Polynices. Being neglected by them, he makes his prayer to the fury Tisiphone, to sow debate betwixt the brothers. They agree at last to reign singly, each a year by turns, and the first lot is obtained by Eteocles. Jupiter, in a council of the gods, declares his resolution of punishing the Thebans, and Argives also, by means of a marriage betwixt Polynices and one of the daughters of Adrastus, King of Argos. Juno opposes, but to no effect; and Mercury is sent on a message to the shades, to the ghost of Laius, who is to appear to Eteocles, and provoke him to break the agreement. Polynices, in the meantime, departs from Thebes by night, is overtaken by a storm, and arrives at Argos, where he meets with Tydeus, who had fled from Calydon, having killed his brother. Adrastus entertains them, having received an oracle from Apollo that his daughters should be married to a boar and a lion, which he understands to be meant by these strangers, by whom the hides of those beasts were worn, and who arrived at the time when he kept an annual feast in honour of that god. The rise of this solemnity, he relates to his guests; the loves of Phoebus and Psamathe, and the story of Choroebus. He inquires, and is made acquainted with their descent and quality. The sacrifice is renewed, and the book concludes with a hymn to Apollo.--P.

TO LORD BOLINGBROKE. St John, whose love indulged my labours past, Matures my present, and shall bound my last!

ADVERTISEMENT. The reflections of Horace, and the judgments past in his Epistle to Augustus, seemed so seasonable to the present times, that I could not help applying them to the use of my own country. The author thought them considerable enough to address them to his prince; whom he paints with all the great and good qualities of a monarch, upon whom the Romans depended for the increase of an absolute empire. But to make the poem entirely English, I was willing to add one or two of those which contribute to the happiness of a free people, and are more consisten with the welfare of our neighbours. This epistle will show the learned world to have fallen into two mistakes: One, that Augustus was a patron of poets in general; whereas he not only prohibited all but the best writers to name him, but recommended that care even to the civil magistrate: Admonebat praetores, ne paterentur nomen suum obsolefieri, &c. The other, that this piece was only a general discourse of poetry; whereas it was an apology for the poets, in order to render Augustus more their patron. Horace here pleads the cause of his contemporaries, first against the taste of the town, whose humour it was to magnify the authors of the preceding age; secondly against the court and nobility, who encouraged only the writers for the theatre; and lastly against the emperor himself, who had conceived them of little use to the government. He shows (by a view of the progress of learning, and the change of taste among the Romans) that the introduction of the polite arts of Greece had given the writers of his time great advantages over their predecessors; that their morals were much improved, and the license of those ancient poets restrained; that satire and comedy were become more just and useful; that whatever extravagances were left on the stage, were owing to the ill taste of the nobility; that poets, under due regulations, were in many respects useful to the state; and concludes, that it was upon them the emperor himself must depend for his fame with posterity.

Say, St John, who alone peruse With candid eye the mimic Muse, What schemes of politics, or laws,

He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part; At home he sought her, but he sought in vain:

Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care, She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her hair: No British miss sincerer grief has known,

ON MRS PULTENEY.[81] With scornful mien, and various toss of air, Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair,

With scornful mien, and various toss of air, Fantastic vain, and insolently fair, Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain,

Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the song, To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades,

Part I What dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things,

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos; Sedjuvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis. (Martial, Epigrams 12.84)

Part 1 What dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things,

Not with more glories, in th' etherial plain, The sun first rises o'er the purpled main, Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams

Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs, Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs, There stands a structure of majestic frame,

But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppress'd, And secret passions labour'd in her breast. Not youthful kings in battle seiz'd alive,

She said: the pitying audience melt in tears, But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears. In vain Thalestris with reproach assails,

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan The proper study of Mankind is Man. Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,

Well, if it be my time to quit the stage, Adieu to all the follies of the age! I die in charity with fool and knave,

'Quid vetat et nosmet Lucili scripta legentes Quaerere, num illius, num rerum dura negarit Versiculos natura magis factos, et euntes Mollius?' HOR. Satire II.

'Ludentis speciem dabit, et torquebitur.' --HOR. Dear Colonel,[155] Cobham's and your country's friend!

TO MR MURRAY.[135] 'Not to admire, is all the art I know, To make men happy, and to keep them so.'

In that soft season, when descending show'rs Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs; When op'ning buds salute the welcome day,

Of gentle Philips will I ever sing, With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring. My numbers too for ever will I vary,

Of gentle Philips[78] will I ever sing, With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring; My numbers, too, for ever will I vary,

Ozell, at Sanger's call, invoked his Muse, For who to sing for Sanger could refuse? His numbers such as Sanger's self might use.

Father of all! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Behold the woes of matrimonial life, And hear with reverence an experienced wife! To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,

What's fame with men, by custom of the nation, Is call'd, in women, only reputation: About them both why keep we such a pother?

Though sprightly Sappho force our love and praise, A softer wonder my pleased soul surveys, The mild Erinna, blushing in her bays.

I In beauty, or wit, No mortal as yet

1 In beauty or wit, No mortal as yet To question your empire has dared;

Few words are best; I wish you well: Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here; Some morning walks along the Mall,

'Ah, friend! 'tis true--this truth you lovers know-- In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow, In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes

How much, egregious Moore, are we Deceived by shows and forms! Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,

To thee, we wretches of the Houyhnhnm band, Condemn'd to labour in a barbarous land, Return our thanks. Accept our humble lays,

Resign'd to live, prepar'd to die, With not one sin, but poetry, This day Tom's fair account has run

Oh be thou blest with all that Heav'n can send, Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a Friend: Not with those Toys the female world admire,

Begone, ye Critics, and restrain your spite, Codrus writes on, and will for ever write, The heaviest Muse the swiftest course has gone,

Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase, To mountain wolves and all the savage race, Wide o'er the aerial vault extend thy sway,

Two or three visits, and two or three bows, Two or three civil things, two or three vows, Two or three kisses, with two or three sighs,

Close to the best known author Umbra sits, The constant index to old Button's wits, 'Who's here?' cries Umbra: 'Only Johnson.'[86]--'Oh!

Father of all! In every age, In ev'ry clime ador'd, By saint, by savage, and by sage,

'See, sir, here's the grand approach, This way is for his Grace's coach: There lies the bridge, and here's the clock,

UN JOUR DIT UN AUTEUR, ETC. Once (says an author--where I need not say) Two travellers found an oyster in their way;

1 With no poetic ardour fired, I press the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he loved, or here expired,

With no poetic ardour fir'd I press the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,

The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign; Of all the virgins of the sylvan train None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,

The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign; Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train, None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,

While Celia's Tears make sorrow bright, Proud Grief sits swelling in her eyes; The Sun, next those the fairest light,

Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats, At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats, Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids!

Lycidas Thyrsis, the music of that murm'ring spring, Is not so mournful as the strains you sing.

You know where you did despise (Tother day) my little Eyes, Little Legs, and little Thighs,